Lost Generations
by greyslostwho
Summary: UNLIKELY TO BE COMPLETED. A murder in New York in 2009 somehow links back to a 1976 case in Philadelphia, and the CSIs must team up with the cold case squad to find the killer before he strikes again! SMacked, LS, maybe the odd Kat/Vera. R&R!
1. One: 1976 and 2009

**Lost Generations**

_A Cold Case and CSI: __New York__crossover fanfiction._

One: 1976 and 2009

_Love Hangover – Diana Ross_

**February 19th 1976**

She could hear her sister calling her from the top floor of their house.

"Mary! Mary, come back here! Mary, you know what I promised them!"

Mary Beaumont stopped in her tracks, but only for a brief second as she pulled on her coat and checked her hair in the mirror. She was a pretty girl, the prettiest in the family, everyone said, because while she had been blessed with the long, dark curls of her mother, her brother and sister had straight, short mousy hair and dull eyes where hers were deep brown. She was the baby of the family, too, little sixteen year old Mary, whilst Mark and Anna were much older, almost like third and fourth parents to her. She'd always been a good kid, up until about the age of fourteen, when her mother had died, Mark had qualified as a surgeon and had never been around anymore, and her father had turned to the drink. These past two years it had been Anna, smart, boring, plain Anna who had tried and failed to keep Mary under control.

Anna who appeared at the top of the stairs now, her glasses halfway down her nose from where she had been studying her law books again, with a pleading look on her face.

"Please, Mo!" she asked, starting to walk down the stairs, "Not tonight. Dad'll be home soon, and he'll just get mad if he thinks I can't control you."

Mary rolled her eyes, laughing a little. "You **can't **control me, Annie! And anyways, Dad won't even notice I'm not there."

Anna started to say something, but Mary had already slipped her feet into her shoes. "I'll see you in the morning, sis." She smiled, her eyes glinting, "Don't worry; I won't skip out on school."

And she flounced out of the door, leaving her sister to rake her fingers exasperatedly through her hair.

Mary hurried down the block, through the rain, clutching her coat tighter around her. She was struggling to walk in the heels she had lifted from her mother's untouched closet just a week ago, having not really had any experience wearing expensive evening shoes. When the car horn beeped, she nearly jumped out of her skin, but as it drew up beside her, she smiled, and opened the passenger door, jumping in.

Lyle Feltham, sat in the driver's seat, gave her a grin. She wriggled out of her coat as he started the car down the driveway, and tossed it onto the back seat.

"I missed you." She said, half laughing as he turned the corner. He gave a nervous smile. Lyle was normally confident almost to the point of arrogance, but there was something about Mary Beaumont that made him uneasy… she convinced him to do things he wouldn't normally even consider with a small smile and a flutter of her eyelashes, and now she _missed him? _How was that even possible?

He pulled into the parking lot, and put on the handbrake, turning slowly to meet her eyes. She gave him a wide smile, reaching out for him.

"You're sure this is ok? You're sure Dean isn't going to find out about this?" Lyle whispered as she eased herself towards him, pressing her body against his, her face centimetres away.

She laughed. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything!" before kissing him lightly. Lyle pulled away.

"I'm serious, Mary. Josie isn't a problem, but Dean…"

"He won't find out." She murmured, lifting herself onto his lap, raising her eyebrows at him, "He's away for a while… now, are you going to shut up and kiss me?"

Lyle laughed, and pulled her roughly to him.

Mary was wild, desperate, and their clothes were shed quickly, and they somehow managed to roll into the back of the car, both of them bare, breathless and flushed. Had there been anyone across the lot, they would have seen Lyle's old car rocking, watched the windows steam up, maybe caught a glimpse of the two teenagers moving together, in secret, but only one of them in genuine fear of discovery. As it was, they were completely alone.

**October 3rd 1976**

She was laid in the grass in the park a few blocks away from her house, on her back, dark hair splayed out behind her, the same coat she'd always worn now not stretching across her belly, across her child. There was a single round red hole in her forehead, and her face was contorted in a look of half shock, half pain.

Barely weeks later, a detective in Philadelphia Homicide wrote the six letters CLOSED on the box labelled up Beaumont, M '76, and a boy hardly older than nineteen was sentenced to life imprisonment, and taken away in handcuffs.

And a family quietly mourned, thinking their pain was over.

**March 19th 2009**

"Caucasian female, between ages 25 and 30… brown hair, COD seems to be gunshot wound with exit to forehead, defensive wounds on wrists…" Hawkes was completing the initial examination of their victim, who had been found in an alley on the outskirts of the city, "Appears to be heavily pregnant, seven to nine months gone, limited stage of decomp puts death between one and two days ago…"

Stella clicked the camera, the flashes illuminating the dead girl once, twice, three times. It was horrible, the young woman laid in front of her, almost a mother, eyes glassy, expression almost confused… and the single red hole in her forehead, so cold, so calculated, so impersonal… Stella swallowed, but the dry, unpleasant taste in her mouth didn't go anywhere.

Mac stepped up behind her. "There's not much to go on, here, the rain's washed all of it away… but we'll have trace from the victim's bag and shoes that should help us to identify her, and it looks like there might be skin under her fingernails that might link her back to our killer…"

Stella frowned, taking another picture from a different angle, and then turning away to photograph the remainder of the scene.

"Hey, Boss." Hawkes muttered, prising something from between the victim's fingers, "I got something."

A folded piece of paper, with a few words scrawled onto it in a messy hand.

_She and Mary are only the first._

"Stella?"

His partner turned away from her photographing to look at the piece of paper Mac held in his gloved hand. She winced when she read it.

"We looking at a serial, Mac?"

He looked up at her, and then back down to Hawkes. "I don't know. But what I do know is we have to find out who out who Mary might be…"

**Hope you like it. I'm sorry for not updating Smokescreen, but I am working on it, I promise. This came to me during a revision session and had to be written, regardless of the piles of exams I have building up! :S**

**Let me know what you all think.**

**glw**


	2. Two: 2009

Two – 2009

**March 19th 2009**

"We got an ID on our vic, Mac." Stella poked her head around his office door, giving him a small smile. He nodded and shot up from his desk, following her across the lab. Danny had pulled a mug shot of their victim up on the screen.

"Emma Kranz, born 1982. Been married to Jason Kranz for two years… she's on our system because she was involved in a fatal car accident two years ago, but all charges were cleared."

Stella looked at the woman on screen, staring blankly at the camera. Emma Kranz had clearly been a pretty girl, but neither of the ways Stella had seen her – lying stone dead on the floor and glaring at the camera in her mug shot – really emphasised that. She had long dark curly hair and big brown eyes, and her face was in perfect proportion. Stella felt a pang as she thought of how heavily pregnant she'd been. Who could shoot a defenceless pregnant woman through the forehead in cold blood?

Adam walked into the room. "I'm running the scrapings from under the vic's nails through CODIS, but I don't think we have enough for a match… there are no other prints on the victim's belongings, and Lindsay's running trace evidence from the soles of her shoes."

"Thanks, Adam." Stella said, turning curiously to Mac, who was still staring at the screen. "You ok?" she questioned gently.

"She looks… strangely familiar, though I don't think I've ever seen her before." He muttered, the furrow in his brow deepening. "She must just have one of those faces…"

But Stella wasn't convinced. Mac looked distracted as he watched Danny scroll through the data they'd brought up on Emma Kranz.

"Says here she lives in Lower Manhattan… Stella, call Flack and get down to her apartment to see her husband…"

Stella nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. Telling a family member about their loved one's passing was never easy, but to tell someone that he'd lost his wife and unborn child in the same moment? That was cruel. Once, Flack would have spoken to the family himself, but now, although she was taking him with her, there was no way she was going to make him say anything.

It still hurt them all, at times, but although it had been nearly six months since Detective Angell's death, Flack hadn't come out of the silence and solemnity that had haunted him since the day she was shot. She'd had a few sparse conversations with Mac about it, but the Flack they'd used to know, joking, smiling, always on hand with a dark comment to make everyone laugh… that Flack had disappeared. She knew that the hardest moments for him were telling the families of the victims what had happened, and subtly Mac had been making excuses for one of his team to accompany Flack on whatever home visits they could, if only so they could step in if it was getting too hard.

But today, with this case already stinging Stella, Flack by her side could simply make it too horrible to work properly. She gave Mac a long look, trying to convey that thought, but he had already turned back to look at the photo of Emma Kranz, still staring with that confused look on his face, still trying to place her, though pretending he wasn't. She shrugged the thought off that Mac wasn't telling her everything, and turned to leave the lab.

Flack was his usual quiet self in the car, and to every one of Stella's attempts at conversation he would give short, listless answers. She felt a sudden rush of sadness, remembering every quirky comment and sarcastic remark the Flack she knew would have come out with at almost every moment of her forced small talk. But as it was, they drew up at Emma Kranz and her husband's house; nothing had really been said of any much substance between them.

Jason Kranz, when he opened the door, seemed unaware that anything could possibly be wrong. He looked like he had just got out of bed, and smiled at the pair of them.

"Can I help you?"

Stella flashed her badge, "May we come in, Mr Kranz? We have some bad news."  
He frowned at them. "Did you find my car? I reported it stolen over a year ago and never heard anything back about it…"

Stella shook her head, Flack closing the door behind them.

"I'm afraid we've found your wife, Mr Kranz." She said slowly, "We have reason to believe she was murdered."

Jason Kranz blinked at them for a second, and then shook his head. "You've made a mistake." He said, clearly, almost loudly. "You've got the wrong person."

Stella shook her head sadly. "When did you last see your wife, Mr Kranz?"

He shook his head again. "Jason, please, this is all so serious… only a couple of days ago… she went to stay with her parents in Philadelphia I thought… you've got the wrong person, Emma's just fine… she's in Philly…"

Flack put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "I know this is hard to take in right now." He said slowly, and his voice was quiet, but surprisingly strong. "And I know this hurts… but we need to know everything we can to try and find your wife's killer…"

Jason staggered backwards, sinking into an armchair, an expression of shock on his face. Stella pretended not to notice the pain that lingered in Flack's face as the pair of them took the opposite arm chairs.

"You're sure it's her?" he whispered, looking down at his clasped hands, and then across to a display of framed photos on the side-table.

Stella nodded slowly. "We're very sorry for your loss, Jason, but we need to know everything about the last time you saw your wife."

He shrugged his shoulders, as if he was at a loss with the world. "She… I… we were having a baby." He whispered, "Really soon… we just… we just had some stupid little argument…"

"Argument?" Stella raised her eyebrows. Jason nodded.

"About whether she was going to go back to work after the baby was born… she wanted to go straight back… she's in advertising… but I thought it might be better if she was a stay-at-home Mom… it just got blown out of proportion, that's all…"

"When was this?" Flack asked, and Jason looked down at his hands again.

"Three days ago. She told me she was going to stay with her parents for a week or two, get things straight in her head…"

Stella was alerted to her cell phone buzzing in her pocket. Checking the caller ID, she sighed, looked towards Flack questioningly. He nodded slowly.

She ducked out of the room, answering Mac's call.

"Bonasera."

"Stella… we've had reports of a domestic incident in Emma Kranz's apartment in November… it would be worth you and Flack checking with the neighbours after you've spoken to the husband… you met him yet?"

"Talking to him now… he doesn't really seem the type…"

"It was a mild report, not taken too seriously when both Emma and Jason denied it, and appeared to have no physical injuries… the report came from a Jonathan Vaugn, who lives below the pair of them…"

"Right, I'll check it out. Mac, I should get back in there with Flack…"

She could almost see her friend and boss' face grow grave. "See you later, Stella."

"Bye."

Walking back through into the other room, the first thing she noted was that Jason's eyes were now full of tears.

"I can't tell you anything else… it was just a stupid argument… we were happy… we would have sorted it out, y'know?"

She sat on the chair opposite him, and clasped her hands together.

"You ever hit Emma, Mr Kranz?"

The young man frowned. "I would never hurt her. She was… she was having my baby… she was the love of my life…"

"I've been informed of a domestic report filed against the pair of you a few months back… what happened?"

Jason shook his head, almost bitterly. "That… that was that crazy old man downstairs…. Joe, maybe? He heard us shouting… we were arguing about whose family to go to for Christmas… and he filed a flaming report."

Stella nodded slowly, watching the tears spill down Jason Kranz's cheeks. She didn't _think _he was capable of murdering his wife, but she had been wrong about people before.

As they stood up to leave, she looked over at the photo display on the sidetable. There was one shot, a black and white photo of two women, one of them still a teenager, one probably in her early twenties. The younger woman was the spitting image of Emma Kranz.

"Who's this?" Stella asked, suddenly remembering Mac's distracted expression and admittance he recognised the photo of their victim.

"That's Emma's mother, and her Aunt Mary, when they were younger." Jason said, "It was horrible… Emma never knew her aunt… she was murdered in Philadelphia when she was eight months pregnant… her boyfriend, they said, did it… she was only seventeen. He shot her in the head."

**Hope you like it!!!! Please review :)**


	3. Three: 2009

Three - 2009

**March 19th 2009**

The man that opened the door wasn't at all what Stella was expecting, a bumbling old man a few marbles short. Jonathan Vaugn was still well-built, and though he must have been well into his sixties, he looked fairly young and healthy for his age.

"Can I help you-" he looked down at Stella's badge, "Detectives?"

She gave a quick smile. "Could we ask you a few questions?"

He nodded, smiling unsurely. "Can I ask what this is about?" he asked slowly, closing the door behind her and Flack. The male detective produced the picture they had of Emma Kranz.

"Do you know this woman, Mr Vaugn?"

The old man nodded. "Sure. That's Mrs Kranz from upstairs. Lovely lady. Is she all right?"

Stella shook her head grimly. "That's what we're here to talk to you about, Mr Vaugn. Emma Kranz was murdered."

Jonathan Vaugn gripped the side of his kitchen top in his hands, and took a deep breath.

"You're sure it's her?" he asked in a weak voice. The two detectives nodded. "That's awful." He whispered, "She was a lovely girl."

"You filed a domestic report against Mr and Mrs Kranz back in November, Mr Vaugn… could you tell us a bit more about what happened?"

He nodded slowly. "You think… you think Mr Kranz did it?"

Stella shook her head, "We can't release information like that at this time, Mr Vaugn. Could you please tell us about the domestic report?"

He nodded, showing them through into his small sitting room. There was no sign that anyone else lived there, but at least twelve pictures all over the walls of the same young woman, with blonde hair and laughing eyes, smiling widely.

"It… it was late November, I think, and I'd recently seen Emma and she'd told me she was pregnant… I heard some shouting quite late at night, and a few sounds… my hearing's not what it used to be, Detectives, but I thought I heard a smashing at one point… I guess it wasn't that bad, but I was worried about her and the baby… so I filed the report… I don't have a problem with Mr Kranz, and afterwards Emma spoke to me and cleared it all up… I was just worried, at the time…"

Flack leant forward. "So you've not been given any other reason to believe Jason Kranz might have been violent towards Emma…"

Jonathan Vaugn shook his head. "No. In fact, after the incident, we talked a few times when we were taking out our trash… he's a nice young man…"

"Thank you for your time, My Vaugn." Stella said slowly, realising they'd hit a dead end here. She handed him a card. "If you remember anything else, just give us a call…" she gave him a reassuring smile. "You're not going anywhere in the next few days, are you?"

He shook his head. "I'm not really into holidaying, and I don't have much family… you'll always be able to find me here…"

Flack and Stella nodded, and got up to leave. As they walked to the door, Jonathan Vaugn called out to them.

"Find who did this, Detectives! She… she didn't deserve to die…"

"We will." Stella said, with more conviction than she felt.

* * *

In the squad car on the way back to the lab, Flack was slightly more animated. It seemed to be the only situation he could seem to put Angell's death behind him, when he was working, trying to find and catch a killer.

"You think Jason Kranz could be guilty?"

Stella shook her head. "If he is… he's one of the best actors I've ever seen… did you hear what he said about the vic's aunt, though?"

Flack shook his head.

"She was murdered when she was pregnant, same MO. In Philadelphia, but he said someone went down for it… maybe it's just a coincidence…"

Flack nodded, "But maybe it's more… but how we gonna get details on a 70s homicide in Philly, Stella?"

She smiled, "I have a contact."

Flack raised his eyebrows, and for a moment there was a sparkle, a flicker of the old Flack, just there. "In the mean time… we'll have to speak to Emma Kranz's parents, see if she ever made it to them… or if that's even where she was going…"

"As soon as we get back to the lab, I'll get Lindsay to locate them, then… and I'll make a call to the people I know in Philly Homicide…"

Flack gave a small smile. "We're gonna catch this one, Stella. I don't care if I don't have to sleep until we do…"

She gave him a weak smile back.

* * *

When they got back to the lab, Lindsay pulled up the names of Emma Kranz's parents on screen.

"Her mother's in a residential medical facility in Manhattan, she can't have been going to stay with her… her father lives in Washington DC with her step family…"

Mac nodded slowly. "You and Danny get down to see the mother, and Flack… put a call in to the vic's father… if we can bring him up that would be great… where's Stella, d'you know?"

Lindsay shrugged. "She said something about her calling someone in Philadelphia…"

Mac frowned, and walked through into his office, where Stella was sat at the computer.

She looked up as he entered.

"Mary Beaumont, murdered 1976, aged 16, eight months pregnant." She said slowly, and spun the computer screen round so Mac could see the high school photo of the smiling girl, who was a complete likeness of Emma Kranz. "Also happens to be Emma Kranz's aunt, same MO, same stage in the pregnancy… everything's too similar to be a coincidence, Mac…"

He shook his head, leaning closer to the picture. "She's the one that looks familiar, not our vic…" he said slowly, "Where the heck would I know her from?"

Stella gave him a small smile. "I figured that one out, too… her case was used as a casefile in the New York Police Academy in the time you were studying there…"

Mac nodded slowly. "I remember, slightly… it was the boyfriend, wasn't it? Nasty character, if I remember correctly…"

Stella nodded. "But he's still in prison for it, and he's always been claiming that he didn't do it… what if this is the real killer, Mac, striking again?"

His brow furrowed. "You have to consider the possibility it could be a copycat, Stella…"

She looked at him. "The note, in Emma Kranz's hand? It said Mary on it… her aunt Mary… look, let me call Detective Valens in Philadelphia… he works the cold jobs… and see if he can at least dig some stuff up on the Mary Beaumont case… I think it might help us…"

Mac tilted his head to one side. "Go ahead." He agreed, "We're going to catch this guy…"

At that moment, Flack put his head round the door… "We made a call to Edward Harris, Emma Kranz's father…"

"Yes?"

"He walked out on her and her mother when she was three, and has never seen her since…"

Mac frowned. "So… either Jason Kranz was lying about Emma going to see her parents… or Emma was lying to her husband about where she was headed…"

Flack nodded slowly.

"Bring Jason Kranz in. We can't leave him to grieve if he might be lying to us. Stella… make that call to Philly. I'm going to meet Emma Kranz's mother…"

* * *

The phone trilled on Scotty's desk, across from where she was sat. Lilly groaned inwardly, wishing she didn't have to work in such close proximity with him. Ever since the _incident _two months ago, every time either of them moved it was too close for comfort… it had thrown a spanner in the works of the cold case squad as well, having Lilly and Scotty hardly speaking to each other, and when they did, in clipped, professional tones. They didn't all eat lunch together anymore, through companionable chatter and smiles, and First Thursdays had become a thing of the past for the pair of them, both fearing the other in a non-forced, non-working environment. Fearing the revelation of their mutual attraction, and that their co-workers might _guess._

Therefore, when Scotty Valens' work phone rang, he was out getting a burrito with Vera and Jeffries, Kat Miller was talking to Boss in his office, trying to arrange holiday to take Veronica away. So she had no choice but to pick up the phone.

"Philadelphia Homicide."

"Hi, can I speak to Detective Valens, please?" It was a woman's voice on the other end of the phone, "It's Detective Bonasera, from NYPD."

Lilly ran her hand through her wispy blonde hair. Not another of his girlfriends, at least she could be thankful for that.

"He's on his lunch break at the moment… I'm his partner, Detective Rush, could I help?"

The woman on the other end sighed. "I'm actually trying to call in a favour… I assisted Detective Valens with an investigation a year or two ago… we're investigating a murder than has striking similarities to that of the victim's aunt, in Philly in 1976… Valens told me you worked on cold jobs."

"We do." Lilly said slowly, "Is there an unopened case this might link to?"

Stella sighed. "That's the thing… someone was put away for this that might not have actually done it… would you maybe be able to look into it?"

Lilly looked across at the stack of casefiles accumulating on her desk, and sighed. The ones that linked to present cases always took precedence.

"Sure. Can I have a name and case number?"

"The victim's name was Mary Beaumont, and the case reference is 7678912… could you let me know if you find anything… our victim was shot two days ago in exactly the same way… I'll send you the details of our case…"

Lilly was already typing in the reference into Scotty's computer to bring up the details. "I'll get right on it, Detective. I'll let you know anything we know…"

"Thank you, Detective Rush."

**Again, please review!!!! xxx**


	4. Four: 2008 and 2009

**Four: 2008 and 2009**

**_March 20th 2009_**

"Right…" Lilly started, running her hand through her short blonde hair, exasperated all ready. They were going to have all kinds of fun opening up this one. "We got a sixteen year old pregnant girl, shot in the head about a month before her due date in 1979… her boyfriend originally went down for it… he's still doing his time… a Dean Farrell…" she pulled out the mug shot. Jeffries raised his eyebrows. Dean Farrell certainly looked like he would have been capable of Mary Beaumont's murder. He was a good three or four years older than her, with a shaven head and some impressively angry-looking tattoos across his right shoulder. "Theory was he found out the baby wasn't his, that she'd been cheating on him… her blood was found on his shirt, though he said they had had a fight the night before, but he'd never gone after her… but the guy went AWOL the day after her body was found, just made him look even better for it…"

"So what's the development? Why are we opening it now if it was closed in '79?" Kat asked, snatching a handful of potato chips from Vera's packet, making him scowl. Lilly looked towards Scotty, and for the second their eyes met she felt a tinge of regret, but quickly swallowed it. _This wasn't her, she wasn't like this, all mopey and doe-eyed._

"Friend of yours in NYPD found a body yesterday, Mary Beaumont's niece. There was a note attached the body saying 'she and Mary are only the first' and as Dean Farrell now has a permanent residence in Pennsylvania State Penitentiary, we're looking at another do-er."

"Friend of yours?" Vera asked, turning to Scotty.

Scotty shrugged. "A case we worked a while back… I had to speak to one of the CSI detectives in New York City. I guess she's calling in her favour."

Stillman thumbed through the Mary Beaumont file. "Lil, Scotty, you get down to the prison and see if Dean Farrell has an alternative theory to offer us."

Her heart lurched for a minute. It was a twenty minute drive to the prison at least, and in the car with Scotty… she sighed. "Boss, I was thinking I might go down to visit Mary Beaumont's father… he's listed as being in a nursing home in Philly."

Stillman looked at her for a second, frowning. "You opened the case, Lil; I want you talking to the prime suspect. Nick and Kat'll go down and speak to the father."

Lilly opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but then thought better of it. Vera and Miller shared a look, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, her lips pursed. Scotty seemed to be finding his hands very interesting.

"Will, if you could liaise with the detectives at NYPD… with a threat attached to the body like that, it's possible that the killer might be looking at more victims… this case needs to take utmost priority…"

There was nodding from his five detectives, more reluctant from either end of the table, where his two youngest members sat, scowls on their faces, deliberately avoiding each other's gaze. If they thought he didn't realise there was something going on there, they clearly thought he was a fool. Ever since the Christmas party, barely weeks after Lilly's experience being run off the road, something had been different between them. They'd all noticed, but no one had said anything, remembering the time when Scotty had been seeing Lilly's sister and how they'd righted themselves eventually. But recently, it had been steadily getting worse. Lilly was his best detective, and although this didn't seem to be clouding her judgement in any way, he missed a time when he'd been able to send Rush and Valens out on a job as a perfect team.

* * *

The aforementioned detectives were approaching Scotty's car across the parking lot, determinedly not saying a word to one another. Lilly almost let a smile touch her lips when they both headed for the drivers' seat and she had to back away, but she remembered herself at the last minute and climbed into the passengers' side, slamming the door loudly. Scotty put the key in the ignition, buckled his seatbelt and turned to her.

"You ain't gonna be able to ignore me forever, Lil."

A bitter smile touched her lips. "I thought I was doing a pretty good job of it."

He sighed, exasperated, and sat back in his chair.

"We can't keep doing this."

She looked pointedly out of the window. "I don't see why not." She knew she was being childish, but it was self-preservation driving her. She didn't often let herself into situations like this, and now that she had, closing off was the only way she could find to deal with it. Scotty ran his hands through his short hair.

"I'm sorry, Lil, ok? But… it wasn't just me…"

She shook her head, laughing dryly to herself. "That's not the problem, Scotty… you know that's not the problem."

He shrugged. "No, I don't. I don't have a clue what your problem is… I can't… I can't _get _you… I don't understand why you've gone all _cold _again…"

She could have retaliated, but instead she simply turned to look at him, eyes as cold as always, unreadable, unreachable. "Are we going to see Dean Farrell or not?"

Without so much as a sigh this time, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot.

* * *

_All I Want For Christmas Is You – Mariah Carey_

**_December 23rd 2008_**

It was cold on the balcony, but she needed some air. The couple of glasses of brandy and the egg-nog she'd had forced on her were making her head spin a little, and everyone inside, hugging her and telling her how glad they were that she was back to work – they were getting a little suffocating. She just needed to take a breath of the cold, dry air outside, only for a moment, alone.

Someone leant up against the balcony next to her, and she was about to groan when his voice invaded her thoughts, and she smiled slightly.

"How you doing?" he asked softly, nudging his elbow against hers, "It's kinda crazy in there, huh?"

She nodded, turning to look at her partner, who was giving her _that smile _and leaning there like there was nowhere else he'd rather be in the world.

"I hate Christmas parties." She said dryly, and he laughed.

"I didn't exactly take you for the type that enjoyed them…in fact, Lil, have you even been to one before?"

She shrugged. "I usually try and work the late shift."

He nudged her again, and this time he didn't pull fully away, so they were still touching slightly.

"Seriously… how're you holding up?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

"What?"

"That's only what everyone's been asking me for the last two hours."

He smiled, "Well… you seem to get yourself into these dangerous situations… what I'm trying to say, Lil, is…" he trailed off, looking down at his hands. "I know what this job means to you, but it's only been three weeks since your accident…"

She looked at him, cold, direct. "Accident implies it was unintentional, Scotty."

He shook his head. "What I'm saying is… are you sure you're all right, now?"

_I watched you pulled out of that water, _he thought, _I thought you were gonna die._

She seemed to recognise the concern in his eyes, and nodded slowly, hesitantly putting a hand on his arm. "I'm doing great. I've had worse, remember?"

He didn't want to let the shooting even cross his mind.

"It's just a bit… _close _in there." She said softly, "I'm fine, but I don't want everyone fussing."  
He nodded. After six years of working together, he knew that about her. While she was minimal effort, minimal maintenance on the outside, he had a suspicion she was far from it deep inside, far more broken.

"You wanna skip this, get out of here?" he asked, stepping away from her slightly, hands coming to rest in his pants pockets, giving him the air of an awkward schoolboy, if just for a second. She cocked her head to one side, looking at him with a slight smile on her face. He shifted from one foot to the other.

"There's a bar just across the street… probably more our scene…"

She looked down at her dress pointedly, and Scotty shrugged. "That's not a no."

That smile, again. Maybe it was the brandy and the egg-nogs, maybe it was that three weeks ago she'd been being pulled out of a submerged vehicle, maybe it was that he was the only person who'd tried to break her out of this party, but she turned the smile up a notch, and walked through the door with him.

**I realise this is more of a shippy chapter, but there's definitely some LS running through this story along with the case... and I might even throw in some Smacked if you ask nicely ;)**

**Ok, I lie. I'll put it in anyway... can't help myself :D**


	5. Five: 1976, 2008 and 2009

**Five: 1976, 2008 and 2009**

**_December 24th 2008_**

He stirred slowly, rolling over as he sunk through from sleep to waking, rubbing sore, bloodshot eyes – the after effects of one too many whiskeys the night before – and preparing for another day of work when he noticed that he wasn't entirely alone.

Not alone at all, in fact, he had a tiny blonde curled up beside him, her head on his chest, her arm slung loosely across his body. There was a moment of annoyance… he'd been trying to straighten his act out, and then the horrific realisation as he took a closer look at the beautiful, completely naked woman with her legs entwined with his.

He'd never thought he'd see Lilly Rush so… exposed. And as he watched her sleeping silently, her mouth turned down slightly in an almost worried frown, he realised out of every time he'd ever seen her, slumped against the wall in the interrogation room, blood leaving the trail where she fallen, staring hauntedly up at the window of George Marks' loft, being pulled, soaking wet and shaking out of the river that night… he'd never seen her look quite as vulnerable as she did right there.

He didn't know what to do. Had she been just anyone, depending on the situation, it would have been a direct decision, whether to wait for her to wake up, tracing circles on her bare back, or to ease himself out from underneath her, lurk in the bathroom until she'd woken up and left. But she wasn't just anyone, this was Lilly Rush, for God's sakes, and this… this was maybe one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made. He couldn't… he couldn't even remember the night before clearly, he'd lost everything in between the two of them drinking in a high street bar, and this morning. He couldn't remember how they'd gotten back to his apartment, how they'd ended up in bed…

_Her lips, searing on his, his hands clutching at every part of her body, longing, desperate._

Ok, so maybe he could remember a little. But not enough to establish whether it had been a good idea, acting on the back of four, five years of repressed feelings, or a drunken mistake, the pair of them too inebriated to even notice who the other really was. Whatever it was, this was going to have some serious repercussions.

He hadn't taken any action to move away from her by the time her eyes fluttered open, sated sleep in them turning into shock in a moment.

* * *

**_March 20th 2009_**

The metals bars swung shut behind Dean Farrell with a solid finality. The last thirty three years in lock up had not been kind to him, he was beginning to look haggard and he'd long since lost all his hair. Lilly didn't think he'd probably ever been an attractive man, and the mug shots she'd seen certainly supported that view, and here he was, looking worse. He looked between the detectives, and then sat in the chair, folding his arms.

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it."

Lilly laughed lightly, sitting down opposite him as Scotty paced behind her. Whatever there was to say about their personal lives, they were still a formidable team when interrogating. "For once, that might be true, Dean." She leant forward on her elbows. "We're here about Mary Beaumont's murder."

Dean near-to laughed. "I been tellin' you people I had nothin' to do with that since they banged me up. Said her blood on my clothes an' in my flat were enough to send me down… an' they did."

"We got new direction, Dean."

He shrugged. "What's it to me? The courts didn't care what I had to say in '76, what makes you think you're gonna find anyone better now?"

She swallowed slowly, sitting back a little as Scotty walked over. "How'd her blood get on your shirt, Dean?"

Farrell rolled his eyes. "They didn't tell you anythin' 'bout what happened?"

"What went down?" Scotty repeated, leaning forward on the table, bracing himself so his face was inches away from Farrell's. There was a moment of shock on Lilly's part at having him so close to her.

Farrell laughed. "I told them then… slut came home one night, told me that the freakin' baby wasn't mine… an' I punched her, like she deserved…" he clasped his hands in front of him, giving both detectives a sadistic smile. "I'd put her up when her daddy chucked her out, was givin' her money and everythin' and she goes and tells me that, eight months in!"

"And that's all you did, just punch her?" It was more difficult that she thought to keep her voice steady when she could practically feel the heat radiating off of her partner. Farrell nodded slowly, with the air of someone talking to a child.

"I hit her about a bit, she ran out on me, shouting somethin' about goin' to the police… guess she never had the chance…"

Scotty took a step back, giving Lilly a chance to regain her breathing space. He paced around the back of Farrell, running his hands over his short hair.

"So… you got anyone else, might look good for Mary's murder, Dean?"

Farrell nodded. "Sure. I told you people then… her dad was a real nasty piece of work?"

Lilly almost laughed, coming from the tattooed prisoner admitting to assault like it held the same value as going to sleep at night, that was rich.

"How so?"

"Mary… Mary came from a nice little family, went to a nice school… but she went bad when her Mom died, y'know what I mean… she wasn't the nice little girl anymore… started hangin' out down at the old park… that's where I met her… sometimes I thought her bangin' me was jus' a way of gettin' back at the world, y'know? Her daddy couldn't be bothered with her, he left her to her brother and sister, and they couldn't control her… she slept with me without a blink when she was fifteen…" he smirked, "She was a mess… an' when she came to tell me she got pregnant… I was gon' drop her there, y'know, but I was runnin' this small time drug job, havin' a girl, a pregnant girl at home would've been a fuckin' great alibi, so I offered her in on my flat… but she had this idea in her head she was gon' tell her daddy an' he was gon' sort it all out for her… but I guess it didn't go so well…"

* * *

_Night Moves – Bob Seger_

**_June 12th 1976_**

Dean Farrell lay on his messy couch, amongst fast food cartons and beer bottles, listening to a half-scratched record and smoking a rolled up cigarette lazily. The knocking on the door was sudden and urgent, but Dean's reaction, slow and hazy, countered it. He staggered to the door, calling out something incomprehensible, and fumbled with the bolts on the door for a good minute before wrenching it open to see Mary standing there, drenched in the summer rain, the fact that her clothes were soaking showing the otherwise hidden slight bump to her stomach.

"What the…" Dean started, but Mary cut him off, staggering through the door, sobbing, and slamming it behind her.

"He… he said he never wanted to see me again…. And Mark and Anna… they just stood there…"

For a long moment Dean said nothing, then Mary looked up, her face coming into the light, and her saw the purplish-blue shade her left eye was turning. He took a step towards her, taking her arms in his two large hands.

"He do that, Mary?"

She shook her head, "It's nothing…"

Dean shook her slightly. "Don't you lie to me… it was him, wasn't it, your perfect daddy that you always preferred to me?"

She shook her head, tears dashing from her eyes. "I thought… I thought he was gonna make it right… but he said if I ever came near that house again… he'd kill me…"

Dean stepped away from her, cracking his knuckles, anger bubbling inside him.

"Don't be mad." She whispered in a small voice, "You're all I got now, baby…"

His breathing slowed slightly, but he didn't turn around. "You can sleep on the couch."

Mary staggered into the other room, tears still falling from her eyes.

* * *

**_March 20th 2009_**

"I thought… I thought maybe she went back to her house… an' her daddy made good on his promise…"

Lilly stood up, eyes cold. "Right Romeo you are, Dean, makin' the pregnant girl sleep on the couch…"

He smirked back at her. "She deserved the floor, given I wasn't even the father of that baby…"

*

Scotty put the car into ignition, as Lilly dialled Vera's number.

"Nick Vera."

"Nick, it's Lil. Just been talking to Dean Farrell, and he reckons the father was abusive and threatened Mary. Worth checking out."

"I'm on it."


	6. Six: 1982 and 2009

**

* * *

**

Six: 1982 and 2009

**New York City**

"Turns out Emma wasn't headed to her parents' after all, Jason." Flack slid the old family photo they'd found across the table to him. In the picture, a two year old Emma was smiling out at them from her father's arms.

Jason frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Her father walked out on her when she was three years old, and her mother's in a residential facility in Manhattan…"

The frown only deepened. "I knew about her mother… but I… I've met her father before."

"His name?"

"Albert Smart, he lives in Philadelphia… Emma's mother is very sick, you see, and I don't think their marriage held out very long after the Alzheimers was diagnosed… but Emma and I go and stay with her father often…"

Flack sat in the chair opposite him, and slid another photograph over to Jason. "Do you know this man?"

Jason studied the photo for a moment, and then shook his head. "There's something about his face that's familiar, but I don't think I've ever seen him before."

"That's Emma's father, Jason. Edward Harris. Left Emma and her mother in 1985 and claims never to have been back to New York since."

Jason shook his head. "That's not her father. That's not Albert."

*

Stella stood in the observation room as Flack walked through.

"You believe him?" he asked, eyebrows raised. Stella shrugged.

"He seems believable… but how can Emma Kranz have had two fathers?"

There was a small knock on the door, and Danny poked his head round. "We've got something on Albert Smart." He said, handing Flack a file. "He does live in Philly, and he married Anna Beaumont three years after her divorce. Their marriage was ended when Anna was diagnosed with early onset rapid Alzheimers and she was taken into a facility…"

"A step father, then. He's who Emma treated as her real father her whole life."

"I'll make a call." Flack said, "We can release Jason for now, I guess."

*

The facility that had become Anna Beaumont's home made even Mac uncomfortable, with the white washed walls and the extreme disinfectant smell. But a smiling nurse led them into Emma's mother's room, with a sympathetic glance.

"You won't get anything much out of her, Detectives. She hasn't been lucid in years."

Mac gave a small nod and allowed Lindsay through the door first. The woman sat in the armchair in the corner wasn't, all in all, that old. She wasn't in any way frail looking, and even the wrinkles on her face were only that of someone just reaching the end of their best years, not someone crumbling away slowly. Lindsay sat down close to the woman, trying an encouraging smile. She glanced across at them, and it was her eyes that aged her. Blank, tired, haunted.

"Ms Beaumont, I'm Detective Monroe and this is Detective Taylor… we're here about your daughter."

Anna shook her head. "I've told the doctors, I don't have a daughter." He voice was cold and blank. Lindsay sighed.

"I have a daughter." She said slowly, "She's just a few months old, her name's Lucy. What's your daughter's name?"

Anna shook her head slowly, with almost the air of a defiant child. "I don't have a daughter." Mac put a calming hand on Lindsay's shoulder, stepping forward towards Anna, and crouching down in front of her. "What about a sister, Anna, do you have a sister?"

Anna stared at him blankly for a moment, and he thought he was going to have to accept that anything they might have got out of Anna Beaumont was long gone. But a small smile touched her lips.

"Mary." She whispered, "She's such a bad girl… Daddy gets mad, and she just does it again… she's having a baby now, she's only sixteen, Mark won't have anything to do with it and I can't seem to make her see…"

Mac was nodding slowly, and Lindsay squeezed her hand. "That's really good, Anna. What happened to Mary?"

Suddenly, everything shifted. Anna's eyes started darting, her movements were nervous, almost like twitches, and she drew her hands away from the detectives, face contorted in fear.

"Attacked… attacked… he came for me… he came for me and my baby…"

* * *

_Tainted Love - Soft Cell_

**_August 30th 1982_**

She had to keep running, stumbling, stumbling, but it was hard when you were eight months pregnant and the baby weighed a tonne. She had to keep running, get home to Edward, get away from this monster…

His footsteps were closing in on her, her heart was racing. She wasn't gonna be able to keep going like this much longer…

And then she felt, face first on the ground, feeling her chin scrape along the sidewalk. As she scrabbled to get up, a hand caught her and held her down.

"I'm sorry, Anna…" the voice said, and she struggled and fought, kicking back, making her attacker grunt in pain. He laughed slightly. "You'll calm down in the end, just like Mary…"

At that moment she heard a dog barking, the light padding sound of running animal, followed by the heavy human boots.

"Who's there?"

The hand on her clothes loosened and the torch light came closer.

* * *

**_March 20th 2009_**

"Just… just like Mary… I was…" Anna's face was decorated now with silent tear tracks. She swallowed, and then looked at Lindsay, a small smile touching her mouth.

"Emma… you look so beautiful… you make sure you're in before midnight, you understand?"

Lindsay pulled back slowly, patting the older woman's hand. "Thank you, Ms Beaumont. You've been very helpful."

Anna nodded blankly, and returned to staring out of the window, tears still spilling from her eyes.

"I think it'd be best if you left now." One of the nurses said, and Mac stood up, Lindsay following, as they headed for the door. As they were about to walk out in the bright white corridor, a voice snaked after them.

"It couldn't have been Dean." Anna said, never looking away from the window. "Dean was in prison."

*

Stella's phone buzzed, and she answered immediately. "Bonasera."

"Detective, this is Will Jeffries from Philly Homicide."

"I'm listening."

"We've talked to the guy who went down for the Mary Beaumont job in 1976. He's put the father up as a suspect, and two of ours are going down to check him out now. The only thing is… he couldn't be good for you murder. He's been in an old people's home in Philadelphia since 2006."

Mac poked his head around the door.

"Can you hold for two seconds, Detective Jeffries?"

"Sure."

She turned to Mac, who had a grim expression on his face as he sat down opposite her. "Looks like we had a third attempt to kill… the mother, Anna Beaumont – in August 1982 when she was pregnant with Emma. The perp held her down and said something about Mary, but he'd chased her onto someone's land, and it was broken up by the owner, trying to catch trespassers. She didn't get a good look at the guy, and if she did, it's long gone now. Her mind's riddled with Alzheimer's, Stell, and-"

She gave him a little smile. "Hold that thought for one second, Mac…. Jeffries?"

"Here."

"My colleague has just informed me that we had another possible attack… August 1982, in NYC, on Anna Beaumont. Mary's sister, and Emma's mother."

"Right. I'll call when we have anything else."

"Thanks."

After she'd hung up the phone, she looked over to Mac, who was staring down at his hands in his lap, looking thoughtful.

"What is it?" she asked. He gave her a small smile.

"Got anything to drink in here?"

She laughed a little. "You're my boss, Mac, I wouldn't tell you if I did…"

He raised his eyebrows, and leant down to open the bottom drawer of her desk, pulling out a whisky bottle and two glasses, and pouring them two small measures.

"What's going on, Mac?"

He shrugged. "Seeing Anna Beaumont like that… she's not that far off my age, Stell… and she's… she's _gone. _She's not who she used to be… just a jumble of memories she can't make sense of… I guess it's got me thinking…"

She didn't say anything, but leant forward, leaning on her elbow on the desk, taking a sip from her glass.

"Life's short, you know that?" he whispered, "Claire, Aiden, Angell… it's sometimes shorter than we think… I guess I was thinking that sometimes we don't make the most of it…"

Neither of them said another word, but the air hung thick with unsaid things.

**A touch of SMacked there ;)**

**Review!**


	7. Seven: 1976 and 2009

**Seven: 1976 and 2009**

_Philadelphia_

**_March 20th 2009_**

Mary's father looked completely harmless, curled over in his chair in the gardens of the Philadelphia residential home, a scarf haphazardly wrapped around his neck and knarled, claw-like hands curled over the arms of his wheelchair. But working the cold jobs as they did, Kat and Vera were used to seeing old, frail people confess to brutal crimes. And Mr Beaumont hadn't lost any of his anger or his edge.

"Andrew Beaumont?"

"Who's asking?" he turned his chair to face them, eyes glinting with annoyance in the bright afternoon sun. Kat flashed her badge at him.

"Detectives Miller and Vera, Philly Homicide. We're here about your daughter's murder in 1976."

The old man pulled his blanket further around him. "Can't you just leave things to rest?"

Vera shook his head, taking a seat on the bench opposite Andrew Beaumont. "Not when it comes to light that you might not have been the doting father we all thought."

Andrew frowned at them. "I never made out I was a good father, Detectives. After my wife died, I had no time for Mary, Anna or Mark… but because Mary was so young, I think she felt it the worst…"

"Having no time for them equal blacking Mary's eye and chucking her out the night she told you she was pregnant?" Kat asked, and Andrew looked down at his hands.

"Not my finest moment at all, I'll admit. But I loved Mary… I had to make a hard decision, sending her away."

Vera frowned, distaste thick in his mouth. "You got an alibi for the night your daughter died?"

He nodded slowly. "I was never asked for it in 1976; they were all over that boyfriend of hers… I was at a conference in Boston, and there are about 300 lawyers that can verify that. What happened with Dean Farrell? Didn't he kill my girl?"

Vera shook his head. "You still in touch with the rest of your family, Mr Beaumont?"

Andrew shook his head sadly. "I was too terrible to them in those years after their mother died… when Mary died, neither of my other children had any ties to home at all. Mark stopped talking to me and Anna moved out the next day. Last I heard they were both living in New York…"

Kat sighed. "Your daughter, Anna, she had a daughter of her own, Mr Beaumont. Emma. Emma was found yesterday morning, a bullet hole in her head, just like Mary's."

For a moment the old man seemed to stiffen, say nothing. Vera continued where Kat had finished.

"There was a note on her body, mentioning Mary. Now, Dean Farrell's been in lock-up since 1976, so we're looking at someone else…"

Andrew Beaumont shook his head. "I didn't kill my daughter. I was a terrible father, but I was never a murderer."

"You got any ideas who might have wanted Mary dead?"

For a long while, Vera thought the old man might have fallen asleep, he sat still for so long with his eyes closed. But then, without opening his eyes, he spoke.

"The girl… the girl she used to be friends with, before her mother died… I never spoke to her again after I threw her out of our house… but I heard the talk. That the baby wasn't Dean's… that it was that Lyle boy's… the boy who was dating Mary's old best friend Josie… and then that Josie girl turned up at our house…"

* * *

_Don't Go Breaking My Heart – Elton John and Kiki Dee_

**_September 25th 1976_**

Andrew Beaumont flung open the door to combat the sound of the persistent, angry knocking. The girl stood on the doorstep he knew from years ago… she'd come on family picnics with them when Maura was alive, she'd been upstairs with Mary in her bedroom overnight on numerous occasions… and now she was standing on his doorstep, flushed and sweaty as if she'd come from a run, and her eyes were flashing with anger.

"Where is she? Where's Mary?"

Andrew began to close the door. "She doesn't live here anymore."

Josie put her foot in his door. "Where can I find her? I'm gonna kill her…"

He opened the door a little, but wouldn't let her through. "What's going on, Josephine?"  
The girl shook her head, tears dashing from her eyes. "I need to find Mary."

Someone took the door from him timidly, poking her head around. His eldest daughter, who he rarely found cause to speak to, Anna.

"Josie! Are you all right?"

The girl shook her head, wiping the tears from her chin fiercely. "Where can I find Mary?"

Andrew stepped back slowly, giving Anna a pointed look that meant _deal with it, _and walked back into the living room. He settled himself down with the newspaper, but after a few minutes he heard their voices coming from the kitchen.

"Your sister's a slut, Anna, don't defend her! She… she's having a baby… with my boyfriend! People said she went bad, but we were **friends **before all this happened!"

"I know, I know… but going over there won't help a thing. Dean… he's not a nice guy…"

Andrew stepped up, looking through the crack in the doorway. Josie ran her hands through her hair.

"I didn't even sleep with him, Anna! I wanted… I wanted to wait for the right moment… and all the time he's been getting it with my old best friend…"

Anna put her hand on Josie's arm, but the girl backed away. "I can't… I just can't believe it…"

And she broke down into tears on Anna's shoulder.

* * *

**_March 20th 2009_**

"… Josie Carmichael was a nice girl, from a nice family… she would have been a better friend for Mary than those thugs she mixed with before she died… but Mary betrayed her trust too…"

"You didn't think to call this in before, when you were interviewed?"

"Like I said, I wasn't even asked for an alibi. The cops were all over Dean Farrell… case was opened and closed in a few days…"

"And the boy who was supposed to be the father of the baby, what did you say his name was?"

"Lyle. Lyle Feltham. He had internship in my law firm a few years later."

"And you knew he and Mary were in a relationship? Or you just believed the rumours?"

Andrew shook his head, and for the first time, he looked almost regretful. "I didn't know anything about what was going on in Mary's life. I left everything to Anna and Mark… it's difficult to remember what I was thinking, everything… it was so hazy those years, the drink was overwhelming and Mary looked so much like her mother…"

He broke off, and turned his face away from them slightly, closing off.

"I've told you everything I know."

* * *

As they headed back to Headquarters, Kat Miller ran her hands through her hair.

"What's eating you?" Vera asked, without taking his hands off the wheel.

"What happened to Mary." She said slowly, "She seems… it seems like she was such a nice, normal, girl, and then her Mom dies… and everything goes downhill… and somehow she gets herself killed…"

He nodded slowly. "Losing a parent… guess it screws up a kid real bad."

She shrugged. "Makes me wonder…"

"About Veronica?"

She didn't say anything for a long minute, and then nodded slowly. Vera shook his head.

"You're more than what she needs…" he half-whispered, as if he was struggling to release the niceties. "You're a great Mom."

There was a small silence in the car for a moment, and then the subject shifted.

"So… how long d'you think we're gonna have to wait for Lil and Scotty to start talking again?" Vera asked, as if trying to hide the softness in the air around them. Kat snorted.

"Until they sort out that little problem of theirs, I guess."

Vera raised his eyebrows. "Little problem?"

She rolled her eyes. "You can't see it? Something happened… sometime after Lil ended up in the river… and then one of them freaked, and ran away… and now they can't decide whether to kiss and make up or run for the hills…"

There was another silence, this one of a totally different kind.

"Something happened? As in _something _something?"

And Kat laughed, patting him lightly on the arm. "Try not to think about it, Nick."

*

**New York City**

_He lifted the gun in two hands, testing it. It still felt right… as right as he had imagined holding his child would have felt. A perfect fit. A small smile crossed his face._

_Someone was about to feel the pain all over again. The two of them being so close together… that was fate stepping in, being kind to him. Promising more, the ultimate revenge. He stroked the cold metal again before stashing it in the drawer._

_Only for now._

**Hope you like it, please review!**


	8. Eight: 2008 and 2009

**Eight: 2008 and 2009**

**_March 20th 2009_**

**New York City**

Stella was very close to punching the air when she found it. The matching grooves on the bullet Sid had removed from Emma Kranz's brain, with the 33 year old bullet from Mary Beaumont's skull that had been sent by express post from Philadelphia and had arrived just as everyone else was leaving the lab, Danny and Lindsay itching to go home to Lucy, Hawkes mumbling something almost incoherent about a date, that had made Stella smile, and Flack… she didn't know where Flack was going. She thought maybe to see his sister, she _hoped _maybe to see his sister, it was better than the alternative: in a lonely, empty flat, with a bottle of Scotch for company, or worse, taking a trip down to the cemetery with a bunch of lilies.

Mac, it didn't surprise her to see, was still in his office, pouring over the copies of the Mary Beaumont case-file that Philly Homicide had sent up, a few hours ahead of the bullet. Adam was sat in the next room, the computer lab, hacking away at something on Emma Kranz's laptop hard-drive, hoping to salvage something from the computer. Stella ran the checking system one more time to make sure, and when the green letters MATCH FOUND flashed up on her screen again, she couldn't help but smile.

The Emma Kranz case had been proving to be one of those that would go dead quickly. There was nothing much at the scene, the rain had washed away pretty much any trace evidence they could find, and it didn't appear that the killer had even touched Emma before he shot her. Ballistics had been the only thing they might have had, and now, an exact match to Emma's aunt's murder and they might just have some sort of lead again, no matter how shaky. She was about to inform Mac when her cell phone rung from her lab coat pocket.

"Bonasera."

"It's Detective Valens. It seems one of our key suspects is currently residing in New York City, so my partner and I are coming down… we'll be with you in the morning.."

"Valens, the bullets are a match. Emma Kranz was shot with the same gun that killed Mary Beaumont."

She heard the detective report that to someone else in the background. "I guess we'll see you tomorrow morning, then." He said slowly, and Stella felt a small smile touching her lips. It was a small development, but it was the first step towards closing in on this guy.

"In the morning."

* * *

**Philadelphia**

"I'm not going to New York City with you." She said, folding her arms, "And Boss won't make me… he won't mind keeping me here."

Scotty frowned. "How long are you gonna keep doing this, Lil?"

She shrugged, almost with the air of a child for a second. "As long as I want to."

He laughed a little, making her frown deepen.

"Look… I didn't mean to hurt you… I jus' thought…"

"I don't want to hear it, Scotty."

But he was reaching the end of his tether, and this case was proving tough on both of them. He sat down on the edge of the desk, looking at her. They were the last people left on the floor, even Stillman had called in to go home ten minutes ago, and here they were, still studying the files and trying not to steal glances in each other's directions.

"What's going on here, Lil?" he whispered, leaning forward so she couldn't help but look at him. "I said I was sorry for what I said… everyone says things when they're angry… you sure as hell said some nasty stuff back… But I don't know what you want from me…"

She tried looking away, but finding her attempt useless, stared back at him, employing the Ice Queen stare that made her one of Homicide's best. "You left." She said slowly, and Scotty swore the temperature in the room dropped a little.

He shook his head. "I thought… I thought that was what you wanted…"

She shook her head. "I thought… you said you knew me, Scotty, and I thought…"

* * *

**_December 24th 2008_**

"Hey." he whispered, heart thudding in his chest as the expressions rushed through her eyes, wondering whether she was going to bolt, and whether he ought to take cover…

She blinked at him slowly, but, so slowly he was hardly sure it was really happening at all, a tiny smile touched her lips.

"Hey." flitted between them so lightly he had to question, again, whether this was real. He swallowed.

"You… uh… you ok?"

She nodded, the tiny smile progressing into a real smile, and then into an almost-grin.

"I'm… good… did, uh, did we?" she raised her eyebrows slightly, and he nodded, his own eyebrows headed for heaven.

"Yeah. Twice."

Both of them moved slightly at the same moment, as if they were leaning in for something more, not sure what was happening… Scotty's face broke into a smile.

"If you want me to kiss you, Rush, you just have to ask."

He held his breath for a moment, wondering if he'd crossed some unspoken line, maybe he'd been reading all the signs wrong… it flickered through his mind, panic, fear, and then a warm feeling that seemed so distant in his mind he could hardly remember it… that feeling of nerves and hope and relief when you touched lips with someone, when it was still new and strange, but you already knew it meant something.

Lilly's lips were light on his, and she rolled towards him slowly, lifting herself so she was half on top of him, and he realised he'd never been this close to her face before, the night before aside. And she was smiling…

He was trying to keep it light, not wanting it to end, but he could feel her teeth nipping at his bottom lip, tugging on it gently, opening his mouth and…

He flipped them, all thoughts of steadiness gone. She looked so small underneath him, but now it wasn't her vulnerability he could see, but her beauty. The triangle of freckles on her shoulder, the ice-blue of her eyes suddenly sparkling between kisses. And that smile… he thought it would probably be his undoing.

He rolled off of her, lying beside her, tucking his hands behind his head. She propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him.

"There a problem?" she whispered, her finger tracing tiny, nervous circles on his chest. He wondered for a fleeting second whether either she was still hideously drunk, that was why she was agreeing to all this, or whether he was still hideously drunk and still dreaming. But there was still a smile on her face as her eyes turned worried, and he knew she was waiting for an answer.

"Lil… are you… are we…" he trailed off. That smile coupled with those eyes was stealing the words straight out of his throat. "You ain't runnin'…"

One corner of her mouth turned up higher than the other, and she kissed him again, gently. "I guess not." She whispered, shaking her head, her fingers twining through his, a promise. Not of any length of time, not of any future. A promise to try.

* * *

**_March 20th 2009_**

She started to say something more, but he put a finger to her lips, his heart leaping in his chest at the contact with her skin again, bracing himself for her to turn and run and keep running until she couldn't even find her way back if she tried. But she was frozen to the spot, her heart thudding so loudly she was sure he could hear it, she was sure he could read every inch of her fear.

"Come to New York with me." He said slowly, like he was dipping his toe in to test for warmth. "We'll get a hotel, we'll solve this case… we'll _talk, _Lilly."

His hand snaked away from her face, taking an awkward route into his back pocket, and she had to physically restrain her sigh as the contact was lost. When she didn't say anything, his face, which had been showing the beginnings of a small hope, fell. He eased himself off of her desk, started to walk away.

"All right." Her small voice cut through the empty room. "New York."

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.

**As usual, I hope you like it :)**


	9. Nine: 2009

**_Sorry it took so long… :S_**

**Nine: 2009**

**_March 21st 2009_******

**New York City**

Stella spotted him from behind the glass doors of the lab, and she gave a wave and a smile before shrugging off her lab coat and leaving her goggles behind on the worktop. She stepped through the door, smiling, catching a glimpse of Mac coming out of the elevator, the first of the team to gradually filter through the doors at NYPD on a Sunday morning when they weren't on shift, but they had a case to solve.

"Valens!" she called, and he shook her hand warmly, that boyish smile on his face.

"Bonasera." He nodded, "This is my partner, Lilly Rush…"

She shook hands too. The woman he was with was small and blonde and there was something behind her smile, but Stella didn't have the time or the opportunity to try to read it.

"Our Lieutenant's just arrived." She nodded towards Mac's office… I'll show you through…"

She lead them through, and they saw immediately the familiar files and photographs they'd been sent from Emma Kranz's case, along with the one cadaver shot of Mary Beaumont, pinned to the board. Lindsay, from where she had been pinning something else to the board, turned and smiled at them.

"You must be Rush and Valens." She said, "Nice drive?"

"Got here about twenty minutes ago." Scotty half-growled, and Lindsay smiled slightly. Mac, Danny and Flack slipped into the room slowly, each making their appropriate introductions. When they all sat down around the table leaving Stella standing beside the board, she began.

"Ok… we have two victims. Mary Beaumont, age 16, 1976 and Emma Kranz, age 27, found two days ago. Emma was Mary's niece, so there could be a family tie… other than that the only similarity between the victims is that they were both eight months pregnant when they were murdered, shot through the head…"

"It's not overly personal." Lilly said slowly, "Not with an MO like that."

"We also have the possibility of a similar attack on Emma's mother, Anna, in 1982, but we have no evidence, as it was never reported, and the only account we have is from Anna Beaumont, who has Alzheimer's… so we have nothing concrete. She was also eight months pregnant at the time."

"We talked to Emma Kranz's husband Jason, they'd had a fight and she'd said she was going to stay with her father in Philly… who has actually turned out to be her step father, her real father walked out when she was just a kid… but it looks like she never made it to Philly."

Flack raised his hand slightly to get their attention. "I spoke to Albert Smart. Emma didn't let him know she was coming to visit… so either she was going somewhere else entirely that day, or she never even got the chance to call."

Mac nodded slowly. "We were following up a domestic complaint filed by the downstairs neighbour, Jonathan Vaugn, but he was very relaxed about the whole thing… said he'd got to know Emma and Jason afterwards and realised it was an honest mistake. From there, we've got nothing… the rain washed most of the trace evidence from the scene and from the body, though blood pooling under the head indicates that she was shot there, in the park, her body wasn't moved…"

"So whoever does this is into huntin' them down on their evening walks, that it?" Scotty started, and for a moment the word _hunting _stirred something in Lilly's heart. George Marks would never go away. Not entirely. But it was only for a second. Then she opened the Mary Beaumont file.

"We got a little more on our victim, figured that if we can catch 1976's doer…" she gave them all a small, strong smile. Scotty couldn't help one touching his lips at the same time. She'd come to New York with him, despite the fact that twenty four hours ago he would have put money on her hating him forever. She'd slept whilst he drove on the way down, and he'd slept whilst she drove, so they'd hardly had a chance to talk, but she was here, that was what mattered. "Mary Beaumont was your average teenage girl, youngest in her family, until her mother died when she was fourteen, and she went completely off the rails… hanging out on street corners, getting together with Dean Farrell…" Lilly laid his mugshot on the table, "Who's been doing time for her murder, because her blood was on his clothes, the night before."

"A right charmer, this one, punched a pregnant girl when she told him the baby wasn't his… led us to the father… who has an alibi, but wasn't the nicest guy himself back in '76. He was on the bottle after his wife died, and he had blacked Mary's eye the day he found out she was pregnant. But he was in Boston the night of her murder, and in a old people's home the night Emma Kranz died. He's pointed us in the direction of Josie Carmichael, Mary's best friend, and the girlfriend of the boy supposed to be the baby's father… Lyle Feltham."

Danny tapped on the table, leaning back in his chair. "Jeez… these cold ones sure get complicated…"

Lilly and Scotty found themselves both nodding knowingly.

"Anyway, it's Josie Carmichael that brings us here, along with Mary's brother Mark. They both live in New York City, and we're still trying to locate Lyle Feltham… but without any much luck."

Mac frowned, "Danny, try and locate a Lyle Feltham in any of our systems… Lindsay, if you and Flack take Detective Rush after Josie Carmichael, Detective Valens and Stella will go and look up the brother… I'm gonna go round to the apartment again, see if any of the other neighbours knew anything, and if Jason's got anything else to say. Hawkes, you got some spare time?"

The doctor nodded. They were all nodding, around the table. All of them were desperate to nail this guy.

*

Stella was driving. Mark Beaumont lived on the outskirts of the city in a nice suburban area, courtesy of having been a surgeon since 1975. Scotty'd offered to drive, but at the older detective's raised eyebrows he'd sat in the passenger seat sullenly, fastening his seatbelt across his chest.

They were five minutes into the journey, when she started.

"What's with you and Rush, then?" her eyebrows were raised again, giving her the image of being mildly interested, but not all that bothered. Scotty nearly swallowed the gum he was chewing.

"Nothing."

Stella's eyebrows tried as hard as they could to reach her hairline.

"Seriously, Valens. I'm not buying that."

He looked at her incredulously for a moment. "We hardly know each other, not really… am I that easy to read?"  
Stella nodded, smiling, and Scotty sighed. "She's… I dunno… it's not _normal…" _he sighed, as if trying to start again, and a small smile touched Stella's lips. Valens was hell of an easy one to read, and she could tell, from that simple sigh, that he was _way _into this Detective Rush.

Scotty turned, glancing a look at the woman driving. "We… uh… she nearly died last year, and then we had a bit of a thing around Christmas… and, well, she's not exactly great with relationships… and then this guy she used to date turns up… freaking ADA…" Stella laughed, "… an' she's all cold with me, and I figure, maybe she'd rather be wit' him, wasn't like we were anything official anyway… and so I cleared my stuff outta her house… and the next thing I know, she's screamin' at me, tellin' me I 'left her' and didn't she understand this was why she didn't trust people anymore… an' I flipped out, cos' she's just impossible sometimes, an' apparently she was jus' figurin' stuff out with Kite, the ADA, an'-"

"Jeez, Scotty, take a breath." Stella muttered, but darting a quick glance at her friend she could see that his eyes were dark, his face set into a frown. He gave a bitter little laugh.

"An' before I knew it, she was gone… not talkin' to me, not sayin' anything… and I guess I kinda realised what I'd gon' an' screwed up."

There was a thick silence in the car as they both considered. Then Stella spoke, her voice low but assured.

"Uh… I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume you really care about Detective Rush…"

He looked for a second as if he was about to deny it, but then a regretful smile crept onto his face. "Sure… Lil's… she ain't quite like anyone else… don' get me wrong, I haven' been head over heels for her forever, or whatever… it's sorta crept up on me…"

Stella gave him a small smile, thinking back to how long she had know her boss, how long she'd been his friend, and how in the past couple of years, intensifying in the more recent months, she'd begun to long for something else, something _more._

"I get it." She murmured, "But I think you freaked, when the ADA turned up… and you didn't really give her the credit she was worth, Valens. And then she bolted…"

He was shaking his head slowly. Stella couldn't help comparing their conversation to an interrogation. He was like a suspect, trying to deny every accusation but she could see in his eyes he was weakening, trying to hold off from making the final confession.

"I think… hell, I haven' got a clue why I'm tellin' you this, Bonasera…" he chuckled, but it was laced with regret. "I think I'm fallin' for Lilly Rush, an'… that terrifies me."

Stella had a hundred things on the tip of her tongue in that moment, but she had pulled up outside Mark Beaumont's quiet, tranquil slice of suburbia. She turned to the other detective, hoping she would say something comforting, or helpful, but before she had the chance he merely shook his head and climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

**There you go, hope it lived up to the rest of the story!! I'm trying for more regular updates, I promise, but believe it or not, despite it being summer, I'm still obscenely busy :P**

**Leave your thoughts in a review.**


	10. Ten: 1976 and 2009

**Ten: 1976 and 2009**

**_March 21st 2009_**

**New York City**

Lilly climbed out of the car, following Flack and Lindsay towards the block of flats in a neighbourhood of New York that didn't exactly look all that salubrious. She wasn't quite as comfortable walking round New York as she was in Philly, there was an element of familiarity missing, but beside the two NYPD detectives she figured she'd manage just fine.

The elevator in the block smelt of a mixture of stale sweat and urine, causing Flack to take one sniff and then decidedly veer off towards the stairs, the two women following close behind. Unfortunately, the stairwell wasn't much better, and Josie Carmichael's flat just happened to be on the top floor. Lilly found herself breathing as quickly and shallowly through her nose as possible, and trying, even then, not to breath much of the stale air in. Flack bounded up the last flight of stairs two at a time, and for a moment Lilly caught Lindsay's gaze, and the NYPD Detective rolled her eyes at her. She gave a small smile in return, and Lindsay felt a pang of regret. This other detective had no idea how great it was to see Flack show even a little bit of bounce in his step. She hadn't known the old Flack, the Flack before Angell's death, the Flack before he had decided to stop caring about most things in life.

She couldn't complain, though. This case seemed to be bringing _something _back to the detective, whether it was simply a lust to catch the killer who had caused such horrific scenes, or whether something of the old Flack was creeping back, Lindsay didn't know. But somehow he'd gained something of himself again, and it had coincided with Emma Kranz's murder and the arrival of the two Philly cops.

It was Flack who rapped harshly on the door of Josie Carmichael's flat, flinching for a minute almost before touching the peeling green paint, avoiding the suspicious looking wet patch just below belt level. For a moment, there was no answer.

"Ms Carmichael, NYPD! We would like to talk to you!"

For a moment, another silence. Then the sound of feet tramping across the floor and five or six locks being undone. Then, the door opened and a face peered round the door. It wasn't the face of Josie Carmichael, however, but it could have been, years ago. The girl standing there was about seventeen, same curly blonde hair, same bright green eyes. Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and there was red lipstick on her mouth, some of which had strayed to her teeth. She was chamming almost violently on a piece of gum.

"There ain't no Miz Carmichael here." she said, leaning on one leg and looking between them. When she saw Flack her eyes widened slightly and she opened the door a little more, giving her enough room to press both arms against her sides, accentuating the fact that almost everything was visible through her black lace shirt. Her eyelashes actually fluttered, and Lindsay had to look down at the floor to stop her from snorting out loud. "But I might be able to help."

Flack flashed the teenager his police badge, not even a hint of a smile touching his face. "We're looking for someone, Miss…"

"Chloe." The girl said, giving another hideous yellow teeth-and-lipstick smile, and opening the door wider, allowing them through.

"A Josie Carmichael?" Lilly continued, and the girl was about to shake her head when a figure walked through from the kitchen.

"That was me, before I got married." The woman said, and Lilly let the door slam behind them, almost in shock. The woman standing opposite them looked far older than her 48 years, a result of endless tobacco smoking, dabbling in drugs in her late teens, three husbands and six children. Her hair, which in the few photos Lilly had seen of her made her look beautiful, was now false and brassy, with roots shining grey for about half an inch at the top of her head. There were wrinkles around her mouth from the smoking, and she was wearing makeup as heavy and as tasteless as her daughters, a cigarette hanging between two yellowing fingers. "Can I help?"

"It's about Mary Beaumont, Ms Carmichael." Lindsay said, "Maybe we could sit down?"

"Sure, sure." She said, ushering them through into a room that didn't seem to have a sole function, but a bed in one corner, the bedclothes still strewn about from the night before, a sink down one end, and a sofa, covered in crumpled clothes, both dirty and washed, along the near wall. Josie balled a large mass of the clothes up and threw them on the floor, gesturing almost grandly to the sofa. Lindsay, Flack and Lilly perched down on it, all of them subconsciously wincing as they touched it.

"Chloe, make us a cup of coffee!" Josie yelled, and turned to the detectives, giving them a toothy smile, "You want anything?"

They all shook their heads slightly too quickly. Josie perched on the edge of the unmade bed and looked at them. "Mary Beaumont? There's a name I haven't heard in a long time…"

"It's about her murder." Lilly started. "We've reopened the case."

"Dean did it." The older woman said, with a strange and suspicious air of defiance. "Dean Farrell, her good-for-nothing boyfriend… he did it. He went down for it too…"

Lilly shook her head. "We have reason to believe it may not have been Dean, Mrs… what did you say I could call you?"

Josie shook her head. "I didn't. But Josie's just fine. Kinda going through a rough divorce… between names, y'know?" Lilly didn't know. "But who… who would kill Mary if it wasn't Dean?"

Flack leant forward, resting his hands on his knees, giving Josie the smile he'd once always used in interrogations with anything female with a pulse. "We were thinking _you, _Josie." Another flash of those perfect teeth, "Mary _did _get pregnant with your boyfriend… and we have evidence you went round her house, threatening things, but she was already gone…"

Josie looked at him for a second, and then snorted with laughter. "I didn't kill Mary, detectives! I was sure as hell mad at her, but I didn't kill her! I was sixteen… and anyway, it wasn't her, in the end, that made me so mad… it was Lyle… I went straight from looking for Mary to hurt to looking for Lyle to hurt…"

"And did you find him?" Lindsay spoke up, trying desperately to read something on the woman's face.

"Sure I did." She laughed again, and Lindsay almost recoiled at the stench of smoky breath. "The next day. And I gave him hell… but in the end, it was Lyle who was the most angry."

* * *

_Right Back Where We Started From – Maxine Nightingale_

**_September 26th 1976_**

She kept hammering and hammering on the door, knowing that eventually he would have to answer it. His parents were away for the week, but it was late, so she suspected he was just settling down for the night, a few beers running through his veins and a _mildly inappropriate _movie in the VCR. But he had to answer to her, and he had to answer to her right then. She deserved at least that.

When he opened the door, she could see in his eyes that he had been drinking, and she wrinkled her nose and burst through the door.

"Josie… hey… I was going to call you…"

"Screw you." She hissed, slamming the door behind her, her hands fisting on her hips, drawing herself up to her full height. "Screw you, you arrogant manwhoring prick of a boyfriend, you-"

"What the hell are you on, Jo?" he cut her off, but his eyes were flashing, like he was ready to bolt. Josie laughed, almost ironically.

"What am _I _on? What am _I _on? Mary. Beaumont. Seriously, Lyle? I could kill you!"

Lyle took a step backwards, and Josie watched a series of emotions flash across his face. Shock, realisation, horror. But when she didn't see anything she could even begin to place as guilt, she raised her fist, and punched Lyle Feltham, her high school senior jock boyfriend, right on the nose.

*

Josie had been a nice girl back then, and she sat afterwards in Lyle's kitchen, holding an ice pack to his nose.

"I still hate you."

Lyle laughed, and then moaned in pain. "I figured."

Josie grit her teeth to stop herself from punching him again. "What… why wasn't I enough for you, Lyle?"

He shook his head. "Jeez, Josie, I dunno, I-"

She could feel the tears dripping down her face. "Why Mary, though? She used to be my best friend, could you not have made it someone else, someone I didn't know…"

And for a moment Lyle didn't have anything to say. And then he clenched and unclenched his fists, anger rising in his face.

"I'm gonna kill her…" he muttered. Josie raised an eyebrow.

"_You're _going to kill Mary?"

He shook his head at her. "She… she was just a little whore. I'm going to _kill _her."

* * *

**_March 21st 2009_**

Josie looked between them, nodding. "I always thought Lyle had anger problems, Detectives. He was on the football team; I guess he used to let it out doing that… but he was always kinda… fired up. Like he was waiting to explode. He used to scare me, if we ever fought… I guess I always thought he might snap."

Lilly and Lindsay nodded, Flack scribbling down the last few lines in his pad.

"And Lyle's the only one you can think of who might have had it in for Mary?"

Josie cocked her head to one side, seeming to consider. Then, "Sure, I guess. I mean, her brother and sister… they loved her… her Dad… he was an ass, but I don't think he had murder in him… and if it wasn't Dean… she was a nice girl, before she went bad… she hadn't had the time to make many enemies…"

She stared off into space, looking wistful, and for a moment, under the layers of makeup, Lilly could see that once, she would have been fairly pretty.

"You'll catch who did this, right?"

Flack looked up suddenly. "We're trying."

Josie nodded vigorously, like she was convinced they would.

"Thank you for your time, Josie." Flack smiled, "If you remember anything else that might help us, here's my card."

She took it with a flirtatious flourish, and Lindsay had to stare pointedly out of the window to stop herself from visibly rolling her eyes.

The moment they were out of the hideous flat block, Lindsay pulled out her cell phone.

"Danny, it's me… any luck on Lyle Feltham, yet?... **He's in ****San Francisco****? **… Yeah, I guess. Uh… we're on our way back, now. See you this evening, then. Love you."

She turned to the others, looking grim. "Lyle Feltham's not exactly in the state… apparently your lot are sending someone to him… Detective Vera?"

Lilly laughed. "I bet he loves that."

**A/N: Hope you're still liking it, and I'd love some reviews :)**


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